


lovely, dark, deep

by summerwoodsmoke



Series: miles to go before i sleep [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alderaan, Gen, Martial Law - Freeform, Origin Story, cheesy references, completely winging it with the culture of alderaan here, history nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwoodsmoke/pseuds/summerwoodsmoke
Summary: "Even in time of galactic conflicts, the Alderaanians shunned weapons. They were not, however, bereft of spirit, as many of them chose to join the rebellion against the Galactic Empire."Mirele Khaye was seventeen when the Clone Wars ended. She didn't think much of it. The war had never really touched her home, and she didn't see much difference between an Empire and a Republic when it was the same creepy man at the head of it. She was much more interested her own life. Little changed. Life went on as it always had, until it didn’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

> work and series title credit to robert frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! why am i writing a story almost entirely populated by oc's?? because ALDERAAN, THAT'S WHY. i have fallen in love with this entire planet and IT HASN'T EVEN EXISTED FOR LONGER THAN I'VE BEEN ALIVE. these are my life choices.
> 
> as you can see, this is part 2 in a series. the works are directly connected, but not chronologically. they can be read in any order, but i do recommend reading this before chapter 3 of énouement, at least. or you could just read this, you do you.
> 
> also, [have some fancasts](https://twitter.com/alinastarkovas/status/789627408462733312), meet mirele and ogechi and also enjoy a live action jun sato
> 
> amazing, never-ending thanks to my dear leslie, who beta reads all my star wars fic, because she is a saint, and also told me that this story reminded her of the book thief. i love you, leslie
> 
> NOTE: i have not yet read ek johnston's ahsoka book. 1. please do not spoil it for me. and 2. i am aware this is probably super non-canon compliant. roll with it

 

Mirele Khaye was five years old when her mother died. It was a work accident, a tragic event that was made even more tragic by the fact that, as Mirele grew older, most memories of her mother slipped away. There is nothing quite as aching as missing someone you never really knew.

  
Mirele's father, on the other hand, had known her mother quite well, and missed her sorely. Mirele's childhood was not a bad one, but it was...quiet. As far as she could tell from stories shared by family friends and neighbours, Anselm Khaye was a changed man after his wife's death. They missed his jokes, his bad singing. Neither were things Mirele had many memories of. Her father loved his daughter, and he worked to keep her happy. He did what he could to help others, especially if it involved working with his hands. His mind and his mouth, on the other hand, were often still.

 

* * *

 

 Mirele was twelve when her father met Jun Sato. He moved in two houses down from theirs, and since their neighbourhood was the sort to have street parties, they threw one to welcome Jun. Mirele and Anselm made a salad with fried fish and blue potato for the potluck, and Mirele played a ball game with the other kids while the adults conversed. At sundown, when Mirele went to find her father, she found him smiling, deep in conversation with their new neighbour. She studied them from a distance, watched the way they were totally absorbed in each other. She smiled. 

 _Good_ , she thought. _This will be good._  
  
Mirele encouraged a lot of neighbourhood parties after that, and made her father go on evening walks with her, always taking them past Jun's house. The man had a pretty big house for someone who lived alone, which was a point she cheekily shared with her father.  
  
"Well, it's up to him to live where he chooses, Mirele," her father replied, oblivious. She huffed.

 

* * *

 

When Mirele was thirteen, she became interested in late medieval Alderaanian art, almost to the point of obsession. Anselm encouraged all her interests, but similar to the short-lived dance phase she'd had at age eight, he really had no clue how to interact with her about it. 

However, amazingly, Jun did. He worked in the Royal Museum of Alderaan, which Mirele had somehow not known, and was happy to talk with her about what he knew of artists and art. He was outside once when she was on her nightly walk (alone—of all days for her father to stay home!) and they got to talking until he offered her an 'exclusive tour' of the museum one weekend. She took him up on it, of course, and had a blast seeing all the pieces he'd mentioned in person.  
  
"Did you know before that Jun worked in a museum?" Mirele asked when she got home from her day trip. She unloaded her bag on the table across from her father.  
  
"I believe I did," he replied, not looking up from what he was reading.  
  
"What! When? Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Well." Anselm put down his datapad. "I doubt if I'd told you two months ago, you would've cared much, and once it did become relevant...I told him of your interest."  
  
"But _I_ didn't even know I had interest in going to a fancy museum!"  
  
Her father laughed. "Are you denying your interest?"  
  
Mirele had to force herself not to laugh as well. "Well, no. But come on, you didn't tell me!"  
  
"I thought a surprise might be nice?" he tried.  
  
Mirele snorted, coming around the table to hug him, her arms tucking over his shoulders to clasp on his chest. "Well, it was definitely something. Thanks, Dad," she said sincerely. "We had an amazing day." She made sure to say 'we'.  
  
Her dad rubbed his hand on her arm. "I'm glad."  
  
Mirele leaned her head against his, letting herself smile. This matchmaking business was practically doing itself!

 

* * *

 

To both her and her father’s surprise, Mirele’s interest in medieval Alderaan hadn’t waned even a year later. By the time she was fourteen, she had gone beyond learning about old artwork and had begun learning just about anything to do with Alderaan’s history. Jun was a historian that specialized in the period of time around when the Treaty of Coruscant was signed on Alderaan, more than 3000 years ago. At the museum, he mostly worked on designing exhibits, but he also taught public seminars on his area of expertise. Mirele thought he was a pretty good teacher. He took her to the museum often, and even got her a special pass to access parts of the museum not available to the public. From him, she learned about the Cold War and the Civil War. One of Jun’s coworkers was a curator that specialized in the Killiks, a species gone before humans ever lived on this planet. Another knew all about the Alderaanian monarchy. Over time, Mirele met all of the staff involved with history that worked at the museum, although she mostly stuck to the ones that dealt with civilization, rather than things like ancient geology or weather patterns. Those put her right to sleep; it was people that she loved.

 

* * *

 

By the time she was fifteen, she was going to the museum after school most afternoons, usually to help out Ogechi, a historian who was employed by both the museum and the university, and was putting together a research paper about the long-reaching effects of the Sith Wars on Alderaan. Mirele and Ogechi often pored over pieces right out of exhibits, or even artefacts that weren’t ready to be put out in public, looking for information. Mirele’s school friends thought it was bizarre that she was willingly doing research outside of school assignments, but it was _fun_ hunting down facts for Ogechi, and she even got to hold _paper_ , ancient and fragile in her hands.

 

* * *

 

One afternoon, no different from any other, Ogechi looked up from the book she was reading and said, “Do you want to get paid?”

Mirele blinked, looking up from her datapad. “Wh...for what?”

“Mirele.” Ogechi was smiling a bit. “You’re basically my assistant, you’re here almost every day. This is a _job_. Do you want it to be one?”

Mirele sat back in her chair. “I...yeah. Yes! Really, you want me to stick around?”

Ogechi laughed. “Of course! As much as I love reading about ancient wars, anything gets tedious after enough time. It’s nice to have some company.”

Mirele smiled. She went home that night with Jun on the train, as she usually did, practically bubbling over with happiness at the news. She invited Jun over to their house, dragging him in by the sleeve before depositing him onto the couch next to her very surprised father.

“Mirele?” Anselm asked. He looked bemusedly at Jun, who shrugged.

Mirele stopped hopping and stood stock still in front of them. “I have a job,” she said with quiet excitement.

Jun chuckled. “She finally remembered to ask?” Mirele looked at him in surprise as Anselm laughed. Jun went on, “We’ve been bugging her about it for over a week now. The entire department thinks you should be getting paid. I’m glad it’s finally happening.” Jun stood up and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug. “I’m very happy for you, Mirele.”  
  
Mirele hadn’t hugged Jun much before, and in fact couldn’t think of any instances where they had hugged before. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unexpected. Anselm was watching them, grinning, from the couch. Mirele smiled and leaned her head onto his shoulder. “Thank you, Jun.”

 

* * *

  
  
Queen Breha's birthday fell in late spring, Mirele's favourite time of the year. The birds migration patterns brought them to the city for the summer, and Mirele thought their cries were a wonderful thing to wake up to. The snow was long gone from the city, but mere minutes past the city's edges led to piles of the stuff all over, capping the mountaintops splendidly. Late spring was a dichotomy of life in the capital, and the day off that they were given in honour of the Queen's birthday made it all the better.  
  
The museum was closed on the planetary holiday, and Mirele made sure her dad was free, before planning a street party for the neighbourhood. She was hoping to get her dad near Jun after sunset, in hopes that they would watch the fireworks together. That would be romantic, right?

As it turned out, they didn't need the fireworks, and the street party probably hadn't been necessary either. She left her dad in conversation with Jun as soon as she could, slipping off to hang out with her neighbours from across the street. She kept an eye on them throughout the night, and their focus never strayed from each other. It reminded her of their first meeting, when Jun had first moved into the neighbourhood. When Jun and Anselm let themselves, they forgot anybody else existed. Their entire world was right in front of them. Mirele bit her lip to keep from grinning too big. She only stopped watching them when her neighbour bumped her with his elbow, and looked up to see the fireworks, all blue and purple, Breha’s colours.

She and her dad didn’t get home till close to midnight, and once the front door shut behind them, Mirele couldn’t help but bring it up. “You and Jun seemed to have a really good time tonight. Are…” She trailed off, unsure how to phrase it. 

Anselm smiled and pinched her arm lightly. “We’re going out for lunch on Saturday.” 

“No! Really? Yes? Yes!” Mirele laughed and hugged her dad, who returned it, laughing as well.

“You’re quite the stubborn one, Mirele.” He kissed the top of her head. “But thank you for waiting for us to catch up with you.”

 

* * *

 

Mirele was seventeen when the Clone Wars ended. The Jedi attempted a coup, the Chancellor became the Emperor, and the galaxy proclaimed peace. The queen and consort had always openly campaigned to end the war, but neither seemed overly happy on the news holos. Mirele didn't think much of it. The war had never really touched her home, and she didn't see much difference between an Empire and a Republic when it was the same creepy man at the head of it.  
  
She was much more interested her own life: her friends, her job at the museum, and how well her dad and Jun's dates went. Little changed. Life went on as it always had, until it didn’t.

 

* * *

 

Mirele was almost eighteen years old when her father died.  

It happened on a dark street corner, in the rain, on the way to the train station after buying groceries. Her father stepped in where he shouldn’t have, because he was, simply, a good man. He did what he could to help others, always, and his ideas of right and wrong were so, so clear cut. And stormtroopers harassing a homeless man was clearly wrong. 

One of the troopers punched him soundly under the ribs. Mirele let out a hoarse yell and stood frozen as another trooper shoved him against the stone wall, pressing on his lower neck.

She dropped their bags and jumped forward only to stop cold when the third trooper brandished a knife at her.

One punched him in the stomach again, then stepped back, stumbling a little, and gave a half-hearted kick to the homeless man.

Her breath formed clouds in front of her, and her father, and the stranger curled up on the ground.

And then the one with the knife—the one with the knife faced him— _he faced her father—_  
  
She showed up on Jun's doorstep, rain-soaked and sobbing. "Jun," she said as soon as the door opened. "He's gone." Her blurry vision went dark as Jun pulled her into a hug, one of his hands pressing her head into his chest. His scent was familiar. It made her think of her father; the two men were inextricable in her mind.  
  
"Jun," she sobbed, grabbing at his shirt. Her head throbbed.  
  
"Shhhh," was all he said. "Shhh, shhh." It took awhile for her to realize he was crying too, which set her off again, inhaling the smell of _home_ so strongly. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other's arms, and it felt like hours. Eventually, Jun brought her in from the stoop, and they sat on the couch, right next to each other, his arm around her shoulders.  
  
They fell asleep like that, curled into each other, and when she woke the next morning, they were still in the same position, slumped against each other on the couch. Her arms were numb and her neck had a horrible crick in it. They got up with little fuss—Mirele went to the refresher, and Jun made a breakfast that they both poked at. As the day went on without them, Mirele finally began to speak.  
  
"We were at the train station, the one near the bar. Stormtroopers seem to go there a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if they were drinking on the job." Every word she spoke was monotone, wooden. She wouldn't be able to get it all out otherwise. "They were harassing a homeless man who was sitting outside the station. Dad handed me our bags and stepped between the man and the troopers' fists. And it didn't matter to the troopers. Made them angrier, actually. Probably didn't like that someone they were hurting was trying to hurt back for once. It was...bad. They must have been drunk. I can't think of why else—" her breath hitched. _The one with the knife—_ "He stabbed him," she whispered. "He stabbed him, and I screamed, and I ran to him, and I thought they were going to stab me next, but the one dragged the others away, and we were all alone. Me, and him, and the homeless man, scared half out of his mind." She was shaking, and Jun had an arm around her shoulders, slowly rubbing his hand on her arm. "It was dark. It was raining. It was the train station near the bar. I called for help, long after he stopped breathing. No one came."

 

* * *

 

The next day, Mirele turned eighteen. She spent her birthday on Jun's couch, playing the occasional card game with Jun, letting the holo play out one bad news story after another, and not eating much.

The day after that, however, they had to go to the funeral house. Mirele had contacted them that night, from the alley, after she had finally stopped calling for help and before she had broken completely. She’d waited with her father until they came, and then taken the train home like it was any ordinary night. When she’d reached their street, she remembered the abandoned grocer’s bags she'd dropped in the alley and started crying.

In the funeral house, Mirele held Jun’s hand as she gave the workers permission to cremate. They waited in the basilica where ceremonies were held. They hadn’t contacted anybody yet, and they neither wanted to come back to this place later or have a funeral by themselves that day. Instead, they sat quietly together, pressed up against each other from shoulder to knee as they waited.

“I think Dad would want to be out in the mountains,” Mirele said softly.

“I think so too.”

They took him out there that afternoon. It was autumn, which meant the city hadn’t gotten any snow yet, just plenty of rain. But out in the mountains, snow had already fallen, probably only once or twice, barely covering the ground. This was Anselm’s favourite time of year for the mountains. He didn’t like them in winter, covered under snow piled taller than he was; he liked it in moderation, in little bits, a crunch under his boots, a bite of cold at his nose. Jun’s nose was pink now. Mirele smiled and rubbed her own. Her coat wasn’t thick enough for the mountain air, but she let the cold nip at her nose, her cheeks, her arms. _This was Dad’s favourite_.

They stopped at a clearing, a patch of land that was fairly flat, with some half-dead grass poking through the snow. They scattered him on the snow and grass. Grey on white and brown, under a blue sky. Mirele hoped it would snow again soon.

 

* * *

  
  
"I don't know what to do, Jun." They were sitting on the couch. Again. Jun had come and gone, even to work, although he'd only gone for a few hours. She hadn't even left the couch, other than to use the refresher. Jun had made them dinner, but she couldn't bring herself to eat much.  
  
"Whatever it is you decide to do," Jun replied. "I hope you know that I will be here for you. No matter what."  
  
Mirele's eyes watered. She let herself slide sideways, her head falling onto Jun's shoulder. "I do know," she whispered. "Thank you."

 

* * *

   
  
Mirele woke up one morning to the smell of the breakfast Jun was holding over her head. "You know,” he said, “I have bedrooms. Multiple bedrooms. It seems silly for you to keep sleeping on the couch."  
  
"You just want your common room back,” she teased, sitting up.  
  
"Well, where else am I supposed to entertain my many guests?"  
  
Mirele laughed. "I'd love a bedroom. Do any of them have beds?"  
  
Jun blinked. "They do not. I didn't think of that. How did I not think of that?"

She laughed again. “I mean, I _do_ already have a bed. We could just go get that one.” She said it without thinking, without considering the actions that would be necessary to do what she’d said. She inhaled, her smile gone. Jun put the plate of food down on the side table.

“We could,” he said. “Whenever you want, we can go over.”

That weekend, her, Jun, and Ogechi walked two houses down the street, and Mirele entered her house for the first time since _before_. Her and Anselm had gotten home from work at the same time that day, and with basically no food in the house, had decided to go shopping together. She’d whined about having to go, half joking and half not, but her dad convinced her. They’d left the outside light on for when they got back.

Mirele flicked it off now and switched the indoor lights on. Ogechi’s insect droid, TK-7, followed behind, whirring quietly. Everything looked the same: a little messy, a little shabby. Some dirty dishes in the sink, her dad’s datapad on the table. Mirele inhaled and kept walking.

"Here's my room," Mirele said as the door slid open. They all walked in, the three humans taking it in like it was the first time they'd been in there. It was, for the others, but Mirele felt like she was seeing it with fresh eyes. So many things she loved and wanted and thought she'd needed were in this room, and were all things she'd lived without for the past few weeks. Jun had come over once, very fast, to get her clothes, but that was all. It'd be interesting to figure out what she'd want to bring with her and what she'd want to leave behind.  
  
"Well, TK," Ogechi said, hands on her hips. "What do you think?" She pointed at the bed.  
  
"Why would I _ever_ lift something like _that_ ," The droid drawled.  
  
Jun, not familiar with TK-7’s personality, looked surprised by her blunt response. Mirele huffed a small laugh out of her nose. Ogechi snorted.  
  
"That's fine, TK, whatever, you can just carry all the boxes instead. You can touch boxes, right, your hands can deign to life those?" Ogechi asked. Mirele was biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Fine, I'll move boxes," the droid replied, sounding exhausted. If she could sigh, she would've. Mirele’s shoulders shook. TK was the most obstinate, sulky droid she had ever met—she was bad enough at the museum, a place she was actually programmed to work, but here at Mirele's house, the droid was at a whole other level.

After a half hour of organizing, everything was ready to go. Ogechi sent TK off with boxes while she and Jun followed behind with the mattress. Mirele came last, hauling her bed box. The bed box wasn't that heavy, but it was fairly unwieldy. Mirele had to maneuver through the hallway and main room and around her and her father's scattered belongings. It didn't hurt being here, not as much as she thought it would. At the end of the day, after Ogechi and TK-7 had left, Mirele put in the code to lock the door to her house.

She'd be back. Not now, but soon. She and Jun walked back to his house— _their_ house, she thought with a surprised jolt—his arm around her shoulders. She hugged him around the waist.

 

* * *

 

Mirele’s first day back at work wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t terrible either. The second day was a bit better, and the third was fine. The stormtroopers stationed outside of the museum checking IDs always set her on edge at the beginning and end of her day, but once she was inside, she put them out of her mind and focused on nothing but the work.

The fourth day back, for whatever reason, was the day she couldn’t put them out of her mind. She knew how bright those white suits were even in the darkness, and she knew how far they were from a symbol of good or light. She couldn’t focus on work at all that day. She'd been there for less than an hour before she wanted to leave. That had never happened before, in all the years she’d been there. Her world’s history had always fascinated her, the way the people of the past had explored and found and fought and loved. But she couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus enough to get anything done, and by lunchtime, Ogechi sent her home.

“Don't worry,” she said as Mirele was putting on her coat. “And don't force it. Come when you can. We’ll be waiting.”

 _Don't force it_ , rang in her head the entire way home, and she sat on the couch with the holo off, thinking. She didn't need the holo to be on to know what was happening in her city. Jun had told her, _Whatever it is you decide to do,_ and by the time he got home from work that evening, Mirele had made a decision.

“Jun,” she said as soon as he walked in the door. “I want to fight back.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Mirele broke into an Imperial base, she was eighteen years and two months old. Jun picked the lock and kept watch while she snuck inside towards the supplies they were after. Blasters and munitions were top priority. She filled one bag with blaster pistols and rifles, then another with power packs. In the pitch-black armory, as she was stuffing the power packs into the bag, she looked up between the shelves and met someone’s eye.

Her heart skipped a horrid, heavy beat, before _Stormtroopers wear helmets, you can’t see their eyes,_ raced through her mind and she slowly reached for a blaster. “Who are you,” she whispered.

“You first,” a coarse woman’s voice replied. The soft click of a blaster sounded from her side of the shelf. “You look a little short to be a stormtrooper.”

Mirele gritted her teeth. “We’re the same height,” she said flatly, looking into her eyes.

The woman laughed quietly. “So you catch my drift.” They stared at each other in the dark silence before the woman spoke again. “I’ll let you decide what goes down now. We finish what we came here for, we part ways, and no one has to know about anything that happened tonight. Or, we finish what we came here for, we part ways, and then you meet me in the cantina four blocks south from here. We can see if any more of our _extracurriculars_ align.” Mirele listened as the woman holstered her blaster. “It’s up to you,” said the stranger. “I’ll be at the cantina either way.” She slid the rest of the shelf’s power packs into a bag, then left without another word.

It took some convincing with Jun, but an hour later, Mirele walked into the cantina, Jun following right behind. (She had tried to convince him to come in separately, but he wouldn’t have it.) She looked around until she noticed a woman at a booth in the corner, lifting her drink towards Mirele with a smile on her face. Mirele tapped Jun on the wrist before making her way over. The woman wasn’t alone; across from her sat another woman, who had to be her sister. Mirele’s best guess would place them around 30 and 40 years old.

“Glad to see you, shortie,” said the older sister, the one she’d met. “I’m Priya, and this is my sister Amrita.”

“Mirele. And this is Jun,” Mirele said, tossing a thumb over her shoulder. She could feel his comforting presence at her back. Priya had a slight smile on her face that Mirele couldn’t help but meet. “I was thinking about aligning those extracurriculars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! this was a one-shot, but you can read more about mirele and jun in énouement. however, if you're looking for a happy ending, i'd probably just stop here.
> 
> i've left this work as incomplete because i have a few other ideas for one-shots relating to énouement floating around, focusing on different characters that ahsoka comes into contact with at some point in my story.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed. kudos and comments are much loved.
> 
> you can find me at [wraithinej.tumblr.com](http://wraithinej.tumblr.com/) and [twitter.com/alinastarkovas](https://twitter.com/alinastarkovas)


End file.
